Paint
by Imladiel.SmartsyWafflez
Summary: Carmen Thomas and Liam Thomas have just arrived in London from Santa Monica, California to take care of there sickly aunt. Their first taxi ride was rather eventful, being stopped by three cops that is, but that was alright. Everything would turn out alright, right? Possible SH/OC. Dedicated to LoveToTheFandoms! Thanks for introducing me to BBC's Sherlock!
1. Prologue

A/N-

Hello~!

This is my first Sherlock Fanfiction and I am dedicating this story to the person who introduced me to the fandom. Way to go, LoveToTheFandoms! You're awesome, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am writing it.

I am still a weak writer, so any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. However, I do will not appreciate any ridicule and flames. ^^ Nobody likes that, now do they?

* * *

Paint

Prologue

Paint. What does one think about when they see the paint aisle in the local home improvement or crafting stores? Do they think of the smell? Do they think of the range of colors? Or, maybe they think about the projects one could use them for? Those thoughts are too simple. Paint is so much more than liquid colors in a can. I just know it.

I think of paint as an escape to a new place. A new story is to be told with every shade of every color. And, when one combines the different colors, the different stories, stories are entwined and create a new aspect to the picture. Sometimes, the paint conveys a horrible story with yucky browns and eerie blacks; but sometimes, the paint shows a beautiful story. It shows a story of friendship, love, and family.

The paintings that are created with each color also have various details in it. Every detail influences the story, making the art a visual poem. The details must be taken into consideration before the story can be told in truth. Some people, are blinded by this, and others, well, they are just geniuses.

I wonder what my painting will look like in the end? Will it be a beautiful painting with happy (or even sad) undertones? A dark painting full of anger and hate? Or just a boring painting with one color and no uniqueness to it?


	2. Chapter 1

A/N-

Hallo! (Learning German and Tolkien's Elvish. Forgive me!)

Hello! What's up, everyone?

I hope this is alright! Any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.

Please forgive me if I mess something up. Just let me know where, and I will go back and fix it.

I know this is super short, but I hope anyone reading this find it satisfying to their fansoul's needs despite its length~! (:

* * *

Paint

Chapter 1: The Taxi and Aunt Avabelle

"Finally," I grumbled to no one in particular, "I thought we would never get off of that stupid plane." For the first time in 10 hours, I was finally on land. I wasn't in a crouched seat with that obnoxious kid kicking the back of my seat. I wasn't stuck sitting; my butt on a cushioned seat that proved to be uncomfortable after about 2 hours. I was walking out of the London airport with my brother, Liam. With our luggage in tow, we were headed for a "fun vacation", if that is what one could call it.

I had detested this trip from the very beginning. We are only in London because our elderly mother wanted us to stay with our sickly Aunt. I wouldn't be so angry if our mother was not capable. Despite her being a senior citizen, she not only had the health, but the means to travel. Whereas, my company could not offer me a position in the London branch. I was forced to resign. (Thanks a lot, mother dearest.) Liam, however, had received a position as a professor at the nearby Uni. That lucky jerkwad.

So, I have to find a new job. Isn't that lovely?

"Taxi!" Liam waved his arms in hopes of gaining a "cabbie's" attention. Cabbie, is that what they call them? I couldn't remember for the life of me. Liam and I have only been here once when I was 10 and he was 15. Now, I'm 27, and he is 32. Can you believe it? Two perfectly capable adults still being bossed around by their mother. I never had a problem with our mother growing up, but she had recently been acting very...odd. I shook my head as I was snapped out of my thoughts. I loved my mother, and nothing will change that.

Just then, a black taxi pulled up and allowed us in. Liam opened the door for me, "Now, you have to deal with the seats of a taxi for however long it takes us to get to Aunt Avabelle's flat." I grumbled in response as I, once again, sat down in a means of transportation. Liam sat down beside me, chuckling at my displeasure.

"This is the address, sir. Sorry for the trouble," Liam passed the cabbie a slip of paper with the address on it.

"'Tis no probl'm, sir," The cabbie told him as we started to drive away. Liam sat back and relaxed in his seat. He decided to rest his eyes, before we arrived. I, however, wasn't tired, so I settled for gazing out the window. I watched the buildings pass in the darkness of the night, and it gave me an idea for a new picture that I wanted to paint. Though, I couldn't paint at the moment, so I simply added it to my mental list of things to paint.

After about five minutes of the ride, I became super bored and nervous in the silence of the cab. I started to hum the song _Starships_ in order to relieve myself of the awful feeling;however, Liam would have none of that. "Shut up, Carmen. No one wants to hear your singing. Even growing up," Liam growled angrily.

Instead of complying, I giggled and sang Bizet's _Habanera_ just to spite him. He wacked me upside the head. "You meanie head!" I rolled up my traveler's guide and returned the wack. I laughed as he glared at me, but my laughter was replaced by fear as we saw a man run out in front of our cab.

I let out a silent scream the moment I heard the thump from the front of the car, but the very next moment. Liam's door was jerked open by a man in a large coat and a scarf, followed by a shorter man. I couldn't really make them out, seeing as how I was on the other side of Liam. "Police! Open her up!" The man exclaimed. My eyes were as wide as quarters, my skin pale, and my breathing shallow. I held my hand up, covering my mouth in shock.

"Oh my God, Liam," I said softly. He looked at me with concern in his eyes. "What did you _do_?"

The policemen were panting as if they had run a long way. "Teeth, tan... What? Californian?" After a moment of looking at our luggage, he said, "L.A. Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How can you possibly know that?" The other man asked in disbelief and frustration.

"The luggage. Probably your first trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you."

"My sister and I have been once when we were children, but.. Sorry, are you guys the police?"

"There's always something," The taller man muttered to himself. "Yeah. We are the police. Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Liam said, regaining his composure after the shock.

"Welcome to London," The taller policeman said right before he walked away.

The younger man, looked slightly shocked, disappointed, frustrated, but as soon as his eyes met mine, he became sympathetic. I wiped away my tears, despite the fact they continued to fall, and smiled at him. "Sorry about that, miss," he said. "Any problems, just let us know." He closed the taxi door and walked away from us.

"What was that all about?" Liam asked me in slight anger and much confusion. "You okay, sis?"

I sniffled, but smiled, "Yeah. I thought we killed him at first. That reckless banana!" I mock insulted in that last sentence.

Liam shook his head, a smile playing on his face, "You are so weird." Just then, another policeman stopped the taxi. He was asking why two men stopped us earlier, and he checked to make sure we are alright. After everything was explained to him, he left us to continue our trip.

As soon as Liam looked at me, I faked a pained expression as I rolled my traveler's guide back up and wacked him again. "Hey, meanie! You don't have to call me names!" I said in the best childish voice I could muster. I continued to wack him until we both burst out into laughter. The cabbie was chuckling at our antics as well. "My word, we can be so immature," I said as I was gasping for air, "If only mother could see us now."

"Oh, jeez. She would simply tell us to 'hush up and act our age'," Liam chuckled. "She has told us that ever since we were tweens."

"Yeah," I agreed, "And I told her we 'were acting how we wanted to act' and that 'she needed to go sit her grumpy butt down by the fire and read a stinking book.'"

"She's probably doing that right now," Liam mumbled. He facepalmed as he realized what their mother might have actually done.

It took me another moment, but realization also dawned on me, "My word! She cost me my job and sent us to another country, just so she can _read a book by the fire_ in America?!"

"No. She probably isn't. She's probably exploring the city," Liam pointed out.

"Which is worse, might I add!" Don't get us wrong, we loved our mother, but she could be really troublesome at times. She has always told us to do things, just so she can go and explore a new hobby, a new shop, or even a new book. It was after our father died that she started to do reckless things. "I can't believe we were fooled," I sighed. I pulled out the photograph of our parents and us, laughing away at the park. I handed the physical memory to Liam.

Liam patted me on my back as he took it from my hand. With his gaze set in it, he spoke softly, "I don't think we were fooled. Our mother might be a tad... adventurous, but she would never send us to another country if she didn't have a better reason than to wander about."

"True," I sighed again.

* * *

"Ah! If it isn' Kimmy an' Claude!" Aunt Avabelle greeted us at the door with a thick accent. "Won' your parents be upset that you young'ns are here an' not 'n bed! Come 'n! You migh' jus' catch a cold ou' there!" Good grief. She is blind, old, and confused. I sighed. Mother _was_ worried about her and for a good reason, too. I looked at Liam, furrowing my eyebrows while silently questioning who Kimmy and Claude were.

"No, no! Its your little man Liam, and little Carmen! Don't you remember us, Aunt Avabelle?"

"Liam? Carmen?" She asked as she looked at us with her smiling brown eyes, "Ah! I 'member you~!" She spoke in a singsong tone. "My! Not so lil 'nymore, are you? Come 'n! Come 'n!" She turned around and made her way up the stairs in her flat. She pointed us in the direction two rooms and told us we will be staying in them. She offered to make tea, but Liam offered to make it instead. I declined both offers and politely excused myself from bed.

I dug out my purple pajamas, and quickly put them on. I pulled up the warm, fluffy bed covers. After a short moment, my eyes became droopy, and I welcomed the long, peaceful sleep I received that night.

* * *

A/N

Good? Bad?

Like it? Hate it?

What about you, LoveToTheFandoms? What do you think?

Should I do anything different?


	3. Chapter 2

A/N

Hello, everyone~! Another hour, another chapter!

Constructive Criticism is super appreciated!

I know, I'm experiencing with the first and second points of view, which do you all prefer?

* * *

Paint

Chapter 2: That's definitely Kimmy and Claude

It was early in the morning, just after sunrise, and I slowly became conscious. My mind was wide awake, but my body protested any movement, so I remained in bed, with my eyes closed. _Maybe sleep will take me again? _

_Five minutes has passed, so I guess that was a no._

I faintly hear laughter from little children outside of my door. I sit up groggily, rubbing my eyes with my wrists. I forced myself up and made my way to the mirror, picking up my hairbrush out of the open suitcase beside the dresser on the way. I took my time and combed all of the rats' nests that were in my long, dark brown hair. I through it up in another messy bun before I heard more laughter outside my door.

_Okay, this is just creepy. Does she have ghosts here, or something?_ I thought to myself as I pulled on my jacket. It was rather chilly that morning, so I was thankful that I had left it hanging on the edge of my bed.

I walked to the door, and paused right before I opened it. I sighed, preparing myself for a jump scare. I slowly opened my door, however, to see a little blonde headed girl and boy. They were roughly seven (Kimmy) and five (Claude) years old, both of them. " Kimmy! Roll the ball back a' me! I's no fun whe' ya keep it from everyon' else!" _Ah. So this is Kimmy and Claude._

"You lil' bugger!" Kimmy sneered at the little boy across the hall from her.

"Now, now. That isn't nice, little one," I spoke from the doorway with a gentle tone. Kimmy, on the other hand, decided she didn't like me and threw the ball at my head, successfully giving me a headache. Then, she proceeded to stick her tongue out at me and run to the other room. Her brother seemed shocked at his sister, but ran after her regardless.

I gasped as I watched the two young ones run off. "You overly-awake monkeys!" I squeaked. I started chasing them, but slid on the bottoms of my soft pajama pants, and fell right on to my behind. Little did I know, Liam watched the entire thing, but I soon discovered him by the sound of his laughter coming from the doorway behind me.

"Kids. Funny little things, aren't they," he said as he wiped a tear from his eye after his laughing fit. I hadn't realized I was fidgeting with my hair until I had pulled it down from the bun, so I flicked him in the forehead with the orange hair band.

I rolled my eyes at him and stood straighter, only to be greeted by Aunt Avabelle and the two hooligans. " 'pologize to 'er, both o' you!" Aunt Ava said sternly, but with a gentle undertone a grandmother would have.

"We're sorry," Claude and Kimmy apologized. Kimmy looked like she was about to cry, and Claude hung his head low in shame. The boy hadn't really done anything. Poor thing...

* * *

Okay, so I couldn't help it, it was just too tempting. I know that isn't a good excuse but I pulled the two kids into my arms and told them that I would forgive them. That was, by far, the worst choice I could have made. That little she-devil, Kimmy, put gum in the bottom of my hair. Kimmy started laughing as Aunt Avabelle gasped and reached for the phone to call their mother. Liam put a hand on my shoulder to prevent me from strangling the little girl. "I've never met a kid so...so... _mean!_" I whispered with a shaky voice.

Now, I know it's really stupid, but I really, really liked my long hair. My hair is what made me, _me._ It was dark brown, almost black, and flowed down to my lower back. I usually curled it, so it was shorter, but still pretty long. It was something that my father loved. He would do my hair for me in the mornings before school everyday when I was little. He would tell me stories about heroes with long hair, and he would sometimes call me 'Rapunzel', which, by far, was my favorite story.

So, yes; I did cry. Though, it really didn't last long when I felt Claude's arms wrap around my knees, and heard him sniffle. I asked him if he knew she was going to do that, and without looking up, he said no and apologized profusely. I got down on one knee in front of him and wrapped him into a hug. "You have nothing to apologize for, darlin'!" I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Needless to say, I had received a new buddy.

He followed me around the house until his mother arrived to pick the two up. She was absolutely infuriated with the two of them. I told her she had nothing to worry about. That they were good kids, despite the earlier incidents. I also joked with her that I needed a haircut anyways. She smiled in slight relief.

"Come along, you two," she ordered her children, "Again, I am so, so sorry." Kimmy reluctantly obeyed her mother, but Claude absolutely disobeyed her. He was already holding my hand, but now, he was holding it tighter in refusal to leave.

Liam, who had been quiet and serious after the incident, was starting to chuckle at the little one's antics and my reaction to them. I was never good with kids, so trying to pry this kid off of me, was super difficult. Actually, the thought of having a kid holding on to me was just _odd._ For real, though.

So, I did what any other person would do. "Hey, now," I curled my index finger from my free hand to my chin thoughtfully. "How about I take this little one with me to town today to get a haircut? And maybe go out to eat. I know you might not trust me and all, so if I can't take him with me, that's fine, but I can bring him right back after I finish my errands."

His mother looked thoughtful, and after a long moment, agreed to the offer. "It really seems I have no choice. That boy is just so shy, even to me. Always has been. The fact that he opened up to you is outstanding."

"She was just like him when we were little, so maybe that's why?"

"Tha' is true. I 'member when the two of ya were young an' came ta visit me," Aunt Ava spoke gently. Her eyes contained such a fondness for the memory, and was that regret? I didn't have time to understand the look because she spoke again, but the words were masked by the sobs the elderly woman cried.

What was wrong with her? I was officially worried about her. She seemed so happy and joyful all morning, but she started to weep because of the four of us? What did we do? I didn't understand, but was snapped back into reality when Claude tugged on my hand. I looked down at him, and he walked over to Liam. He got Liam to pick him up and walk him over to Aunt Ava, and he planted a kiss on the elderly woman's cheek.

D'aw! That kid!

* * *

Liam had, after much arguing, pushed me out the door so he could take care of Aunt Ava. "Honestly, you did promise Claude that you would take him out today. Now, go you rotten banana!"

"Dumb face," I grumbled as I pulled my shoes on.

Liam chuckled, "Your so childish."

"So are you."

"Touché," he grinned sheepishly.

I took hold of the little boy's hand, and we walked out of the door- gum in my hair and ready for a long day, but hopefully its fun. I pray its a fun day.

* * *

We did have a good day, and though it was kind of emotional for me because of my hair cut, I had my little buddy here with me to keep me from breaking. Oh, that little cutie! He started calling me Auntie Carmen. How adorable! Liam needs to hurry up, marry, and have a few kids for me to spoil. Just sayin'.

_Oh well._ I giggled to myself. _One can only dream._

"Auntie Carmen! 'ook at tha'!" Claude pointed to the giant story book display in the window of the bookstore we were passing by. It was a representation of Jack and the Beanstock, and so I led the boy in and watched as his eyes brightened at the sight of books. "Auntie Carmen! Can 'e go 'ook at the books on tha' shelf? Please?" he begged.

"Of course," I agreed as he led me to the said section. He was looking around at the different books, and his eyes stopped on one specific story. Ironically, it was just what the store was displaying in the window. It was a relatively cheap book, and so I agreed to purchase it for him. He smiled relentlessly and was all giddy- like a child on Christmas morn.

However, it was time for me to send the boy home. Listen, I was still very jet lagged, and it was getting dark out.

The moment we arrived to his house, his father opened the door, and without warning, Claude jumped into the man's arms and told him all about today's adventure with 'Auntie Carmen'. His mother walked in right after she heard the boy's excited giggles, and she joined in on the laughter. He told them about the new book he received, and how I told him, that if his parents didn't mind, I would gladly babysit him and his sister if need be.

They, of course, agreed.

* * *

It was after ten. I stood in my mirror, only a lamp lighting the room. I examined my newly cut hair. I picked the one that Julie Benz (whoever that is) rocked in the hair magazine that was in the waiting room. It was medium length and super curly and cute.

I slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt. I was prepared to sleep, but sleep never came.

I don't know why, but the two policemen, that stopped our taxi last night, are haunting my mind. The cabbie, too. Something happened. I can just feel it, but why? Why do I have that gut feeling something happened to them?

Why do I even care? I mean they're human, yeah, but I don't know them. So, why?

I finally fell asleep around 4 in the morning, but was rudely awaken at 8 o'clock by Aunt Ava. "Dearie, I'm so s'rry, but I need ya to do me a' favor."

"Of course, Aunt Ava," I yawned as I sat up, "What do you need?"

* * *

A/N-

Hey, guys! I love writing about those two kids. I swear. However, I didn't mean for Kimmy to turn out to be such a butthole, but it happened. Let's make do. xD

And yes, they are super important to the story, so if you don't like Kimmy and Claude, hold tight.

I'm also super duper excited about the next chapter, (with Sherlock and John ^^)!

.

By the way, I really don't know who Julie Benz is, but I really like her hair! (random afterthought... sorry). If you look her up, though, you might be able to find Carmen's hairstyle?

.

Love it? Like it? Hate it? Despise it?

Constructive Criticism?

Lemme know what I can do better!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N-

Chappy Three is here. Go me! (JK.)

So, this chapter is definitely the one that is super exciting to me! WOOOP!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Paint

Chapter 3: 221B Baker Street

It was 9:30 in the morning, and with only four hours of sleep, I was to run something over to 221B Baker Street and deliver a basket of goodies to a woman by the name of Mrs. Hudson Apparently, the two had been best friends when they lived in America, Florida if you want to be more specific, together with their husbands. Both of their husbands, however, were executed for committing a large crime. This shocked me, even more so when Aunt Ava was fine with it.

She was too sweet to be fine with that.

"Alrighty! I'm leaving now!" I called out to the living room. I was standing in the kitchen, beside a sleepy Liam who nudged my arm and told me to be quieter. "And Liam is to be a good boy. If he misbehaves, wack him with my traveling guide!" I exclaimed twice as loud as before.

"Shut. Up." Liam grumbled.

"Ah~!" I giggled. "So you _did_ go out drinking last night. My silly brother, you shouldn't do such things. Ruins your brain."

Liam didn't respond, and when I peaked over at him, he was sleeping. Weirdo. I giggled softly as I picked up the gift basket and made my way to flag down a taxi.

* * *

When I arrived at 221B Baker st., I was greeted at the door by another lady. "Ah! You must be Miss Carmen Thomas! Thank you so much for the basket, dearie! Come in! That basket is for the two men who live upstairs. Would you bring it to them while I make tea? We can sit and have a small chat! Oh! I miss having young girls around to talk to, and an American one at that!"

"Of course," I smiled. I liked this woman already. "You must be Mrs. Hudson, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am!" She beamed, "Now, go upstairs and give that to Sherlock and John. Hurry! That couple just moved in, and it is a custom between Avabelle and I to give them little gifts, you know?"

I chuckled at the lady, "Very well." She left me alone to give the basket to the two men. With each step, the stairs creaked at different volumes. I was extremely thankful when I made it to the top. Squeaky stairs are very scary. They remind me of something in a horror story. Of course, I wont say that to anyone, but it is how I feel.

I sighed before I knocked on the door. I didn't know why I was so nervous, but I really couldn't help it. To my surprise, the shorter policeman that stopped our taxi the other day opened the door. "Uh... Hi," I squeaked as I realized who it was. I was so terrified of the two of them. I'm not guilty, but I feel that, because I'm American, they may try to pinpoint a crime on me.

Oh, good grief! Why would they do that? They're the police, not some gang members from home. "Hello. Aren't you that woman from the taxi?"

"Y-yes. Mrs. Hudson requested me to bring this for you and your significant other," I gulped.

"Significant other?" He asked as he eyed the basket.

I nodded stiffly, "Yes. Y-You and the other person that lives here is what I was told."

I jumped as he policeman in front of me let out an exasperated sigh. "We. Are not. Together!" I grumbled to himself. "S-Sorry. Come on in." I followed him in, still shaking from earlier, but when I saw who he lived with, I burst into a fit laughter.

He lived with the other policeman- the one who jumped in front of our taxi.

"I-I'm so sorry, but I honestly can't see it," I spoke as I wiped away some tears of relief.

The taller man looked at me, "Cannot see what, exactly?" He asked.

"How everyone thinks you two are together. Its so painstakingly obvious. Especially because this guy here is wearing clothes fit for a first date," I smiled at the two men. The taller one chuckled as the other one blushed slightly and laughed. _Maybe they aren't be so bad._

"You observed that?" The dark haired man asked.

"Yes. Why? Is that wrong?"

He shook his head adamantly, "No, no. People are usually idiots, that's why I was a little surprised."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah. Well, people will always be idiots. One has to make do, you wouldn't know this of course." At this, John laughed a little harder. I gave him a blank stare. What was so funny? _Oh,_ I thought, _Its because of the glare I'm receiving._

"The name's Carmen. Carmen Thomas."

"I'm John Watson," The shorter man said, "And this, is my flatmate, Sherlock Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both in better conditions," I smiled. "Last time, I believe I was scared out of my wits when you stopped our taxi. I was also furious at my brother. I thought he had broken the law within an hour of arriving in London." I giggled at the thought.

"You're from the taxi?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, I am. You probably couldn't see me, it was dark, and I was crouched up in the back," I said. He seemed to study me for a moment before closing his eyes.

He snapped them open and said, "I did see you. You had longer hair, though."

"Yes. Yes, I did. A little girl put gum in my hair yesterday morning, and I was forced to cut it."

He stared at me with a blank face, and paced the floor in front of me, saying: "You are angry about the haircut, because it reminds you of your childhood with your late father and the happy times you shared, but after his death, your mother became reckless and uncaring to you especially. She thinks it is your fault, yet you still love her. Which is also why you are here. You left your job to please your mother by taking care of your elderly cousin, who is full of sorrow and nearing her end. Your brother is taking care of the three of you, though, because he is the one with the job. You hate it. You hate relying on others. You were planning on looking for a job next week, but you were requested to take care of siblings, twins possibly? One of them might have been the one who put gum in your hair, but the other one you find is nice and you wouldn't mind being with him. You are a painter, and thought to take them to an art museum to pass time."

I hadn't realized I had started crying until I felt a hand on my shoulder, "W-Who told you?"

"Nobody, I observed it," he said, nonchalantly.

I glared at him, "Yes. Just as I observed you and Mr. Watson. You are a genius. One who can take one look at a person and deduce most everything about them. You can learn their darkest secrets in merely a minute, just as you expressed a moment ago. You are lonely because people are afraid of you, and oh, how true that is for me also. You have a brother, whom you despise because of a childish argument the two of you had growing up. You are distant from your family. You are called a freak daily and are told to 'piss off'. While you put up a facade that hides your emotions from the world, inside, you are hurting. I can see it. You want people to understand you? Isn't that right? Maybe you need to try a different approach to people.

John Watson was in the military, but recently sent home due to his injury on the right shoulder. He agreed to live with you a couple of nights ago, because he had no where to go and refused to talk to his brother for help. Maybe due to his drinking problem and family life? Also, Mr. Watson here is a doctor. He has his first date tonight with a historian from a local library. Planning on taking her to the cinema.

You see, Mr. Holmes. You aren't the only one who can dig up peoples pasts in first glance. I just like to hide it."

Sherlock and John both gaped at me. I sighed, "Close your mouths, or you'll forever be dubbed 'the old ladies that swallowed flies'."

"But I do have a question?" I asked John and Sherlock. "How did you afford a nice place like this?"

"We got a nice deal. Mrs. Hudson's husband was sentenced to death in Florida, and Sherlock helped out."

"You didn't do a good job then," I smiled sheepishly to Sherlock, "Both Mrs. Hudson's husband and my Uncle _were_ executed for their crimes as accomplices."

Sherlock's lips quirked slightly. "I did succeed," He said. "I didn't want to prevent their deaths, I _ensured_ it."

I growled beneath my breath, "Filthy banana!" He laughed.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson finally arrived and broke the tension between Sherlock and I. This guy is so obnoxious, I swear. When the tension broke, it was as if we had all been friends for years. Save Sherlock, but I will get him to open up eventually.

"Dearie," Mrs. Hudson asked. The boys had left the room in search of something, and I was left alone. "Would you help me with this?"

"O-Of course!" I smiled. I stood up slowly, but before I knew it, I had collapsed into darkness. I felt strong arms pick me up, and heard faint voices that were sincerely concerned, but honestly, I couldn't do anything about it if I had wanted. I was placed onto a soft mattress, and covered up. Sleep took me against my will.

* * *

**Sherlock POV**

Carmen Thomas. She was quite an interesting character. I've never met someone who can do the same things that I can. I've never met another genius, but there she was, talking and laughing as if she had know us since children, despite our minor spat we had earlier that morning.

John suggested they should play Cluedo, I couldn't help but agree. Maybe she would side with me on my case. The victim is the one who killed themselves! The two of us searched for the board game, but when we returned, Carmen was stumbling around the table. She paused and started swaying. I took that moment to rush to her, in time, too. She would have fallen and hit her head on the corner of the table. I picked her up when I noticed she had fallen unconscious. John took a look at her and said it was the lack of sleep, so I put her in my bed and Mrs. Hudson phoned her brother and Aunt.

Her _AUNT_! There is always something. She was supposed to be her _cousin, _but no. Avabelle Jones is Carmen Thomas' aunt. "She has a fever," John whispered to me as he continued to examine her. "We should get her to the doctors in the morning."

"But you're a doctor," I protested.

"Yes, a doctor without tools. She needs to go to the hospital in the morning, whether she wakes up or not. I will contact her brother in the morning, for now, lets keep an eye on her. Alright?" John responded sincerely to me. "I know you are worried, I am too, but we really can't let that cloud what is for the best."

"Don't be an idiot, John. Why would I worry about her?" I called over my shoulder as I left the room.

* * *

A/N

Woo. Plot twist. I know it seems a little rushed, but trust me, IF there are any pairings (which I'm not really sure how this is going to turn out), then it will take a lot longer for the characters to open to each other in that perspective.

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Like it? Love it? Hate it? Despise it?

Tell me what you think (Especially you, Bin-Chan!)

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Constructive criticism to help me be a stronger writer?


	5. Chapter 4

A/N- Hello! Happy Sunday! (:

Here's a new chapter. Sorry its short, but oh well. :)

I hope you like it!

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Paint

Chapter 4: Clients

"She should awaken soon," a second doctor spoke to the people surrounding the unconscious American. He pushed up his glasses before he spoke again. "Her fever has gone down considerably, but I would like to run some tests today, keep her over night, and hopefully finish up tomorrow."

_Why keep her over? Both John and Dr. Grayson said it was due to her lack of sleep._ Sherlock thought to himself has he paced the floor. He shook his head, _Why am I so worried? I don't even know her._

John, on the other hand, was more than just a little worried. He had spoken to the original doctor, Dr. Grayson, outside after he had examined her. Both agreed that it may be a little more than the "lack of sleep".

* * *

**Carmen POV**

I awoke to the sound of loud, obnoxious beeping, sniffling people, and a long, drawn out silence right after. "Mmn..." I mumbled as I tried to open my eyes, but what greeted me was not expected at all.

I wasn't at home in America, I wasn't in bed at Aunt Ava's or even at 221B Baker Street- no. I was in a hospital bed. I just fell asleep? What happened to me that put me in here? "Oh, good! She's finally awake! How are you feeling, dearie?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she patted my hand.

"Like I just woke up," I muttered, "I hate the mornings."

Liam laughed out of relief, "Of course you do. You have always hated mornings, especially when dogs are involved."

I glared at him, "Shut up, Liam. No one asked you." I looked at the clock; it was 10:32 A.M. "Hey, when are they going to let me out of here?" I asked as I pressed the buttons on the remote to my hospital bed. I adjusted it to where I was comfortably sitting up. I didn't fail to notice everyone's worried looks they flashed one another. "What?" I asked, slightly impatient and very concerned. "When are they letting me out of here?"

John stepped closer and cradled my right hand in his hands, trying to provide me comfort. "John? What's going on?" I asked, panic beginning to fill my voice.

"We don't quite know for sure yet, Carmen," he said softly. "At first, I thought it was lack of sleep, but there is a chance that it may be a little more than that." He noticed my worry building up through my facial expressions and quickly added, "But it may be nothing at all. It may really be sleep."

I observed the room. Sherlock was standing by the window, watching me intently- deducing me. Liam was standing beside Aunt Ava, who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. _I must have given her quite the scare._ John was standing next to me, still. Whereas, Mrs. Hudson sat on the edge of my bed. "I'm sorry," I apologized to everyone, "I'm sorry that I'm so troublesome." John smiled at me reassuringly, and left to speak to the doctor outside, once again.

"Jeez, Carm," Liam joked after the door closed behind John, "Look what you've done."

I shot him a glare, but snorted when he accidentally dropped his cell phone onto the hard floor. "Jeez, Lee," I scoffed, "Look what _you've_ done." Of course, I regretted that the moment he took a pillow from Aunt Ava and smacked me with it. "Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing? Sick person, here!" He chuckled, but continued to hit me. The room was filled with laughter.

That is, until the doctor walked in, John following close behind. The two doctors stood, stunned at the sight before them. Liam, whom was practically caught red handed with his pillow in the air, ready to come down at any moment. I was giggling at his wide-eyed, a look of panic when a mother catches their child with their hands in a cookie jar. John scolded Liam, but regrettably, this has happened on more than one occasion, and he does everything in his power to distract me from the "scary hospitals". Despite my attempts in convincing John, telling him not to worry, that this happens often, he only seemed to worry more?

I admit, it isn't normal having to be sent to the hospital more than once or twice a year for the same reason, is a dead giveaway that something is wrong with me, but no one knows what is wrong with me. The doctors here, in England, want to do quite a bit of testing on me. Its rather nerve wracking. I despise tests. Not because they worry me, but because I am constantly wondering what the heck I have to drink gross liquids for the CT scans and when I can eat _real_ food again. Honestly, why the poodle do I have to wait 8 or so hours until I can eat at least a cracker. When I asked, I received a lecture on how food can make me sick and blah blah (I honestly wasn't paying attention).

"That's absolute monkey poo. You know that?" I said to John as Dr. Grayson walked away. In response, I only received an exasperated sigh from John.

* * *

Sherlock was staring out the window, contemplating something I suppose was of importance. "Carmen," he said, noticing my eye contact. A shade of light pink dusted my face in sheer embarrassment. "While the others have gone out to eat, I have a few questions for you." _Have I really been staring at him for THAT long?_

"Yes, I suppose so," I said as John walked in the room. "But there's a catch to my agreement."

"And that is?"

I through a bright smile at both the army doctor and the fellow genius. "I would like you to answer my questions."

John chuckled while Sherlock held a blank stare. "Very well," he said. John sat down in the empty chair by the bed while Sherlock started his interrogation. "Earlier, you said that this happens often. Were you speaking of being admitted to the hospital or simply pillow fights with your brother?"

I chuckled, but my face drifted to an expression of seriousness, "I was speaking about the constant visits to the hospital. My turn. What work do you both do?"

Sherlock, not taking his eyes off of the window, "A consulting detective. The world's one and only. I created the job. How often are you admitted to the hospital?"

"Once, twice, sometimes more all for the same thing." She glanced at John, who instead of smiling at her, was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "When can I eat?"

"Whenever you are given permission to," Sherlock stated monotonously. "When did this start happening?"

"When I was 14," I said, no longer smiling. "You said you're a consulting detective. What do you actually do as a consulting detective?"

"I consult Scotland Yard when they are incompetent to solve cases on their own," he said. "You stopped smiling, why?"

At this question, John's head shot up, looking at Sherlock with such a strange expression. "I-I would rather not say..." I said.

"But you have to," Sherlock said.

I turned my head away, refusing to look at him, "I answered by saying no. I will not tell you why. However, I would like to know why you are asking me these questions."

This time, however, it was John who answered. "Because you, my friend, are a client."

* * *

_A/N-_

_Hey, guys! Sorry its short, but you know. School. Ugh... School._

_Anyways, I will try to update on the weekends, but I really needed to get this chapter finished. _

_I'm pretty bad at updating, but I am also seriously impatient when it comes to waiting to update. Tried it once, but completely forgot about it. So I update when I finish._

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_Like it. Love it? Dislike it? Hate it?_

_Let me know!_

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_I am still a weak writer, so any constructive criticism is super appreciated!_


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